Evolution
by SgtMac
Summary: What starts as antagonism slowly grows into something deeper for a Queen and her White Knight. A five part relationship/character study that takes Regina and Emma from enemies to allies to friends to lovers to love. SQ, Semi-graphic. Complete.
1. 1 Enemies

**A/N: This is a five-part writing challenge. Angsty, but mostly just a SQ relationship study that I'm using to help me clear my mind between chapters of Concordance. Will eventually utilize content warnings.**

Timeline For Chapter 1: Mid-season 1, pre curse breaking.

* * *

_"There's battle lines being drawn_

_Nobody's right if everybody's wrong..."_

**-For What It's Worth, Buffalo Springfield**

* * *

"You're late," the mayor states sharply, her dark eyes flickering up to meet the less than impressed green ones of the sheriff. The blonde woman is standing in the entrance of Regina's office, slumped against the doorframe, her hands jammed into the tight pockets of her indigo colored skinny jeans.

"Sorry," Emma shrugs, making it clear that she's not the least bit apologetic.

"Do I even want to know what kept you from being punctual this time, Miss Swan?" If there's the slightest hint of humor within her tone of voice – and there is - well then it's because she finds that she's actually looking forward to whatever ridiculous excuse the blonde might offer up now.

Last time, Emma had been thirty minutes late to a conversation about budgets and requisition forms because she'd been otherwise occupied chasing a runaway dog around town. The busy and dangerous life of a Storybrooke law enforcement officer, Regina muses, her lips curving upwards into a dangerous smile.

As if reading the mayor's mind, Emma smirks in response, "I was busy."

Regina's perfectly sculpted eyebrow lifts. "Busy? Sheriff, do I actually need to remind you that you serve at my pleasure? I am the Mayor after all."

"Mayor," Emma nods. "Not Queen. Contrary to what Henry believes."

Regina grits her teeth at this. Thirty years ago, this insubordinate and arrogant woman would have been strapped to the cold wall of a dungeon by her wrists and ankles and whipped until Regina had decided to show her benevolent mercy. Had she, of course, decided to ever show her such mercy.

"I don't have time for your childish games, Miss Swan," Regina finally manages.

"Good because I really don't have time for yours, either," Emma shoots back, sliding herself away from the doorframe. She moves deeper into the office, eventually coming to stand in front of the marble desk, her arms crossed over her chest. "Now, unless you'd prefer to keep bitching at me, Madam Mayor, perhaps we can start again and you can tell me why you needed me here so urgently."

Emma's pretty sure that she sees a muscle jump in the older woman's cheek, and it takes everything she has to bite back a smirk of amusement. It's not every day that she can manage to win even a small battle with the mayor, and while this one is absolutely tiny in scale, it's a victory she plans to celebrate.

Maybe with a couple beers later on tonight.

Assuming, of course, that Regina doesn't rip a hole in her head with the furious laser beams that seem to be shooting from her dark eyes right about now.

"I need your assistance on a Neighborhood Watch initiative that I'm launching," Regina finally states, her jaw still clenched tight. It's somewhat amusing to Emma to observe how much trouble the older woman is having getting her irritation back under control. It's nice – or maybe gratifying – to realize that she can crawl under Regina's skin just as much as the brunette can slide beneath hers.

"Do we really need one?" Emma queries. "Because there's not really a whole hell lot of crime in this town, Regina."

"Really, Sheriff? So someone didn't set City Hall on fire?"

"Someone did," Emma agrees, once again jamming her hands into her pockets.

"Someone you've never caught, I might remind you."

Emma gazes right back at Regina, meeting her eyes, and trying to let the mayor know that she sees this for the bullshit that it is; they both know that Gold had played the whole situation, and manipulated Emma into the badge.

"As I said," Regina nods after a moment, "I'm launching this initiative to ensure that the citizens of Storybrooke feel safe, and as the head of our law enforcement department, I expect you to be a major participant and voice in the rollout of it."

"Depends on what that actually means."

"On the contrary, Sheriff, regardless of what it means, I'm going to have to insist upon it being part of your everyday duties."

"All right; I'll play. What extra…fun will this add to my…duties?"

Regina shrugs noncommittally. "A few night patrols. Some mid-afternoon ones."

"Mid-afternoon. So around the time Henry gets out of school, I'm guessing."

Regina smiles faintly. "You know, I hadn't considered that."

"Like hell you didn't. Jesus, Regina, the lengths you'll go to."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Miss Swan. My entire focus is on protecting Storybrooke and everyone within –"

"Oh, fucking save it," Emma growls out, leaning over the desk and putting herself right at Regina's eye level. Though the marble surface is between them, they're within inches of each other, their eyes locked into a fierce war. "You are the worst liar I have ever met. For what it's worth, you're also the worst manipulator."

Regina laughs, the sound humorless. "You really have no idea, but even if that were true, it doesn't change the facts of the situation."

"Which are?"

"Which are that if you want to keep your job, come tomorrow afternoon at two-thirty, you'll be driving around in that shiny new squad car that you requested and I authorized purchase of. And while you're doing that, you'll be ensuring that my town is safe." She stands up and leans forward, into Emma's face, the space between them less than an inch. "Do I make myself clear, Sheriff Swan?"

"Crystal. Are we done here?"

"We are. You may go." She flips her hand dismissively as she says this, and then lowers her head back down towards the mountain of paperwork and accounting forms sitting on her desk. Normally, she wouldn't break away from a staring contest, but she has a pretty good idea that letting the sheriff know that she's no longer needed or wanted will succeed in riling the stubborn woman up.

And hopefully, it'll remind the arrogant blonde woman of her place.

"You really are a piece of work, lady," Emma growls out, shaking her head.

Regina lifts her head at this, a lazy knowing smirk playing over her red lips. "Really, Sheriff? Lady? Don't you think we're past such demeaning terms?"

"You think that's demeaning? You ought to hear what I call you when you're not around to whine about it," Emma shoots back. She's vaguely aware that she's engaging in a grammar school style face-off with the mayor, and it's more than a little insulting to both of their positions within the community, but there's something about Regina – something about going head to head with her - that brings out the side of her that wants to claw and bite until she draws blood.

"Oh, I can well imagine what someone with your education might come up with," Regina chuckles, the sound rich and condescending. "Now, enjoy your day, Miss Swan." She stands up, walks around the side of her desk, and strides towards the door, making it quite clear that she expects Emma to follow her.

So, of course, Emma doesn't move an inch, just gazes back at Regina with an almost blank expression. "You know this won't keep Henry away from me."

"I'm aware. My son seems drawn to you like…well, that comparison is about as civilized as the names you call me," Regina notes, a fake smile stretching her lips. It's large and impressive, but ultimately there's no mirth in play.

This is about power and control.

Which is why Emma steps forward, and moves right back into Regina's face. She's close enough now that she can smell the body wash that the mayor had used during her morning shower – something that smells vaguely of lavender.

"You know, Regina, none of this has to be this way," Emma tells her. "We could maybe actually act like adults and work together."

"For Henry?" Regina prompts, tilting her head as if to suggest that she's actually considering Emma's words. They're close enough still that when Regina speaks, Emma is able to smell the slight hint of peppermint on the brunette's breath.

Peppermint and lavender, Emma muses before she can stop herself, an interesting – and not at all unattractive - combination. She quickly shakes her head to pull away from these decidedly unwelcome thoughts (faking a head roll to hide the motion). "For Henry."

"Oh, Miss Swan, do I look like a charity to you?"

"No, what you look like to me is a very lonely angry woman who thinks life is all about mind games and control. Ever think about making it about things like love and happiness instead?" She knows that she's treading dangerous ground right about now, and honestly, this is an absurd conversation for the two of them to be engaging in, and yet the words spill so easily from the blonde's pale lips.

"I'm perfectly happy, Miss Swan," Regina responds, but try as she might, her dark eyes tell an entirely different story that she's unable to mask from Emma.

"You could fool the hell out of me. Happy people don't try to ruin lives. And you know what? Generally, happy people aren't quite so damned good at doing it."

"What you consider ruining lives, I regard as maintaining order."

"You're ridiculous."

"If you're done wasting my time, I have things I need to," Regina snaps. "And unlike you, what I do is actually important for the survival and health of this town."

"Yeah, well, you wasted my time first," Emma replies. "But sure, I'll leave you to your incredibly important paperwork." She moves to step past Regina and ends up slamming right into her frame thanks to the older woman's refusal to budge.

It's clear that she intends for Emma to go around her, not through her. Even this is a power play – a show meant to let Emma know who's in charge.

"Seriously?" the blonde demands.

"Consider me a door," Regina answers.

"That's not too hard to do," Emma shoots back. She then reaches out, grabs Regina by the bicep, and moves to push her away. The movement is awkward, though, and the mayor is so surprised by it that instead of spinning out of the way, she ends up tumbling forward and into Emma's lean body, which drives both of them to the ground in an undignified heap of arms and legs.

And cursing.

There's suddenly a lot of cursing. Almost all of it coming the mayor's mouth.

Which ends up making Emma laugh.

"Have you gone mad?" Regina growls out as she tries to separate herself from Emma, who is surprisingly enough making absolutely no attempt to do the same.

"I'm working for you aren't I?" the blonde retorts, her smile still obnoxiously large. "I must be mad to be willing to put up with you day in and day out."

"Indeed. If you're done laughing like a hyena, perhaps you could move your leg?" When there's no immediate movement, Regina tilts her head, a strangely curious and almost cruel look crossing her face. "Or would you prefer to stay like this because, dear, if this is what you've been after the whole time, you simply could have said such to begin with." The words are biting, and clearly meant to throw Emma off her game and make her feel uncomfortable and uncertain.

And they do, but Emma's sure as hell not about to let Regina know such. "Someone's impressed with herself," she counters.

"Wouldn't you be if you were me?" comes the cocksure response. Problem is, Emma sees right through the bravado. Her only response is a knowing smirk.

"Whatever," Regina snaps out, then, realizing that this isn't a path that she wants to go down with the sheriff; she's perfectly comfortable with their relationship being exactly what it is: adversarial and acrimonious. "Get off me."

"Gladly," Emma nods as she moves to disentangle herself from the furious looking brunette woman. It's more complicated than it should be thanks to the way they fell together, but after a few false starts – and knee to the mayor's hip (which gets her snapped at again) - she finally manages to push herself to her feet. She extends a hand downwards to help Regina to her feet.

"I don't need your help," Regina answers crisply, though her own way of getting back up is decidedly messy and uncomfortable. Once she's back up on her feet, she levels her dark gaze, staring directly at Emma, her chin lifted defiantly.

One might almost say regally.

"You have before," Emma notes. "Some day you might again."

"Perhaps if a building is on fire again," Regina allows grudgingly, but she might as well have just said "when hell freezes over".

"Right. Well, you know where I'll be when that time comes."

"Hopefully on your mid-afternoon patrol," Regina lobs back, her calm and control once again fully recovered. She glides a hand gracefully – almost casually - over her clothing, then her hair, smoothing everything back into place.

It makes Emma think of someone putting themselves back together after a quickie. Another thought that gets shoved back and hidden behind a head roll.

Instead, the blonde opens her mouth and almost replies with something about Henry, but at the last moment, she stops herself. Because the day is getting late and even though her job consists mostly of chasing dogs and listening to perfectly content people who don't know how to allow themselves to be happy, she needs to be getting back to the office. Starting a new round of back and forth with Regina will just delay that. Weird that part of her just doesn't mind.

She sighs. "As you wish, Madam Mayor."

It sounds a lot like "Your Majesty" to Regina so she lifts her chin up once more and nods like a queen dismissing her subject. "Very well. Good day, Miss Swan."

Emma rolls her eyes. She meets Regina's eyes once more, allows for a few further seconds of staring at each other and issuing challenges, and then with a shrug of her shoulders, turns to exit. She stops briefly, cocking her head slightly to the side. "By the way, the next time you want to proposition me, you might want to try being nice first. Couldn't hurt." And with that, she turns and leaves.

"I did not –" she stops short, realizing that Emma has already gone. She growls under her breath. She briefly considers grabbing her phone and calling the blonde so as to finish her statement, but wouldn't that just prove the point?

Instead, she slowly makes her way back over to her desk, flattens her clothes down once more, and settles herself back into her chair. Emma Swan, she tells herself, is just a nuisance. She's absolutely nothing more than that. She's an enemy that will be crushed as all of her other enemies have eventually been.

That she feels a slight pang of something – be it guilt or regret or perhaps even something deeper than that – at the things that she will need to do to ensure that Emma leaves town, well that's something she buries down deep.

Emma is a threat to everything that she holds dear. That the woman at times reminds her of herself is irrelevant; the sheriff will assuredly bring about her downfall if allowed to do so. Which means that she has to be dealt with.

Permanently if need be.

And so she will be.

But not until after she's helped roll out the Neighborhood Watch Initiative.

Regina smiles at this, maybe even smirks in satisfaction.

This is a battle that she's going to win, she thinks, the smile growing into a grin. She's going to win it, and then everything will be as it should be once more.

Calm. Quiet. Serene.

And under her control.


	2. 2 Allies

Timeline: Season 2, so before the beginning of 2X13.

* * *

_"Cuz if I ain't got nothing_

_I got nothing to hold me back..."_

**-Tim McGraw, Last Dollar**

* * *

She's bent over her bed, the heels of her hands pressed against her eyes, and the tips of her fingers rubbing at the front of her scalp. The lights in her room are down as low as they can be and still be on, but it's not about them anyway. This is about capturing for herself a few seconds of quiet. All she wants to do is block out the world for a couple minutes. Just long enough to try to collect herself before she has to pull everything together and take on the next grand quest.

A year ago, she was Emma Swan, who was pretty much no one at all. She'd lived an existence that had hardly been what one might call spectacular, and at times, it'd even been downright depressing, but at least back then her every day had been hers. Or at least she had believed it to be such. With each passing day that she spends here in Storybrooke, Maine, she's coming to understand more and more just how very little of her life has ever really been her own.

She sighs after a few minutes, and stands up, moving back into the closet with an overnight bag clutched in her fingers. She's been to New York dozens of time by now, and so she has a fairly good idea of how to dress. And perhaps luckily for her, she has an entire wardrobe full of new and shiny options to choose from.

Frowning a bit at this thought, she grabs for a hoodie – something the old irresponsible Emma would wear – and steps out of the closet, her head down as she gazes at the thick rough cotton material of the worn sweatshirt.

"Going somewhere are you, Miss Swan?" she hears a low throaty voice say, and it's then that she realizes that there's purple smoke dissipating in the air. It's odorless and despite her previous fear back at the Mayoral mansion about being encompassed by it, it's fairly formless as well. When it sweeps past her suddenly completely frozen body, turning wispy as it vanishes, she doesn't feel it at all.

She's not sure she would have anyway, though, because her eyes are glued on the woman that had formed inside of the smoke. No, formed isn't accurate; she'd teleported in, made her body immaterial and moved it from place to place.

Science fucking fiction, Emma thinks, her frown growing to meet her eyes.

And then she grunts in response.

"Hm," the brunette woman appraises with a lifted eyebrow, "I see your new taste in clothing hasn't likewise improved your verbal abilities." Her eyes sweep over the blonde woman, taking in the black and white striped sweater and the red scarf. These clothes feel wrong for the Emma that she knows, but then perhaps, she doesn't know the sheriff at all. If that's true, then this conversation could end up going very badly for the both of them in a hurry. She prays, then, that she's wrong.

She prays that the weird thread of common experience that has always connected them – even in hatred and animosity – will hold taut now.

"Regina," Emma finally manages because dammit, yes, she's a bit stunned. For the last several days, everyone has been looking for the former mayor. Sure, they've been distracted by pissed off imps and drunken mad scientists, but they have been looking. Well, kind of anyway. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Trying to stay alive," the brunette answers with a humorless chuckle. Her eyes drift around the room, taking in the walls and other surfaces. There's clothing and other things scattered about, but even now, after all this time, the room more resembles what a motel would look like as opposed to what a home would.

After all this time, Emma still hasn't completely allowed herself to move in.

"And you're okay?" the blonde presses, her eyes taking in the physical appearance of the brunette. She looks tired, but otherwise reasonably all right.

"Depends on the definition of the word, I suppose," Regina answers, meeting Emma's eyes. It's weird for the blonde to look back at this woman and not see the defiant superiority there. This Regina hardly resembles Mayor Mills.

But then, Emma thinks, she herself hardly resembles who she was back then, either. Everything has turned and twisted and changed within the last few weeks. Power balances have flipped and control has been revealed to be the illusion Emma has always known it to be. Even three months ago she'd known that Regina's perfectly put together façade had been just that. And dammit if she hadn't done everything she could to crack the mask the former mayor had worn.

So why then, she wonders, does seeing Regina like this – still proud, but clearly no longer in charge or even remotely strong – bother her so deeply? Why does it unsettle her to see this woman looking so terribly defeated and human?

"Regina," Emma starts, the words that she needs to say here falling over her tongue and then coming to an abrupt stop before they can burst from her lips. How do you even begin to apologize for losing faith in someone right when they needed that faith the very most? And how do you have that conversation with the person who just a few months ago had tried to put you into an eternal sleep?

It seems that no matter the balance of power, her relationship with the former mayor is every bit as complex as it has always been.

In short, it's more than a little weird to feel so guilty and terrible about believing the frame-job because it's not all that ridiculous a thought to actually believe that Regina could have murdered someone. She's certainly done it before.

And yet Emma feels the need – almost like a fire in her belly – to make this right.

It's the brunette, though, who gets the ball rolling down that hill. "I didn't kill him," she says, and neither one of them needs any clarification on who "him" is.

"I know," Emma answers softly.

"You do?" Regina's voice jumps up a bit at this. "How?"

"Archie's alive."

"He is?" And at this the brunette woman seems genuinely surprised. And she is because while she'd known her mother had set her up, that little detail – the one about the cricket having not been murdered after all – had been left out.

Just one more mind game courtesy of the Queen of Hearts.

"It's a long story, but he escaped from the ship after Belle found it while…you know what, doesn't matter. We've known for a few days, and we've been looking for you all over town but –"

"But I was hiding."

"Hiding well."

"Hardly, dear," Regina counters with a small smirk. "I was in my crypt. I never saw any of you there."

"Where?"

"Beneath my father's coffin. I assume your father didn't tell you about that?"

"No," Emma answers dryly. "Must have skipped his mind."

"Of course it did. Either way, the first person I saw was my mother."

"So you've actually seen her?"

"Unfortunately."

"Regina…"

"She offered to help me get Henry back."

Emma feels her spine stiffen at this. She glares back at the brunette, her green eyes snapping. "Is this a threat, then? Is that why you're here? To tell me that if I don't surrender Henry, you'll team up with your mother to take him from me?"

"I suppose I deserved that, but no, Miss Swan, this isn't a threat and I'm not here to take Henry. Certainly not by force," Regina answers, and it's the docile almost broken way that the former mayor says these words that makes Emma soften her stance. While she hasn't always trusted her instincts, she chooses to do so now, and each and every one of them is telling her that what she sees is true.

Her gut is telling her that this woman who seems so tired and worn down isn't playing any games; instead, she's being honest for the first time in a very long time.

"Then what the hell is going on here?" Emma demands. "What does Cora want?"

"First, you tell me. Where are you going?"

Emma frowns back at the overnight bag she'd dropped on the bed. "Gold is calling in the favor I owe him; he's making me help find his son."

"I didn't know he had one."

"Makes two of us."

"Mm. So you're leaving town, then?" She chuckles. "Curious timing."

"It's not the best," Emma agrees. "And yeah, we're headed to Manhattan."

"Actually, it's perfect timing," Regina mutters to herself. Then, looking up at Emma, she continues, "My mother is nothing if not dramatic. I don't know exactly what she's up to yet, but I know this: she has plans and they're not good ones."

"Which again makes it really bad timing for me to not be here."

Regina smirks at this. "I see neither your biologically inherited arrogance nor your naturally grown bravado have abated."

"Why change what works?"

"Indeed. And actually, for what it's worth, Miss Swan, I'm counting on that bravado and arrogance to keep Henry safe. I want you to take him with you."

Emma shakes her head, frowning as her confusion mounts. "You know that I'll protect Henry to the end of this world or any other, but I'm not so sure about bringing the along. Gold threatened all of us earlier tonight. Including Henry."

Regina rolls her eyes at this. "Nonsense. Gold is a bastard, but for whatever reason, he'd never hurt a child. He's safe enough. Especially with you there."

"Regina…"

"Look," the brunette snaps, staying any further protest. "My mother is going to do something, and while I suspect that your parents in their obnoxious 'good always wins' way can slow her down, I don't want to take that chance with Henry's life."

"So you want me to just leave this town to you and your psychotic mother."

"I want you to protect Henry."

"I can do that from inside of Storybrooke, too, Regina."

"Not yet, you can't. I don't know what her game is. Until I do, there's no limit on what she could be up to; we can't be on guard for all of it."

"So you're going to work with her to try to find out what she's planning. That's your...plan," Emma spells out, her brow furrowing a bit. She thinks of all the times that she's pretended to be someone else to catch a mark. Most of the time, the game has worked out, but when it hasn't, the ramifications have always been severe.

Sometimes close to deadly.

"Yes. You leave town, and I'll play the part I have to. She thinks helping me get Henry back is the way to get me back. All I have to do is play…lost for her."

"Is that so hard for you?" Emma queries. After a moment of staring back at the dark haired woman and getting no response (which Emma thinks is response enough), she presses on, "Tell me the truth, then: If you honestly believed that she could defeat us, if you thought you could kill us and take Henry away, would you go along with her for real? Are you just choosing the likely winner now?"

Regina chuckles coldly at this. "I said your parents believe their nonsense, Miss Swan; I didn't say that I do. Were my mother and I to truly to team up together, were I to choose to let this world burn down around me as long as I had Henry at the end of the day, there's nothing you or anyone could do to stop me." She stares back at the sheriff, her dark eyes boring into Emma's wide green eyes.

It almost sounds like a threat, but Emma – despite her need to buck against the hostile words – sees it for what it actually is: the cold honest truth. This is a woman who has let the world burn down once before. That she's unwilling to do so again speaks to the honesty of the change that she'd been seeking.

Emma nods her head in understanding. "Okay. I'll take Henry with me."

"Thank you. You should know that it's likely that I'll need to do a few things to prove to my mother that I'm on the side she thinks I am. She doesn't know much about me anymore, but if I refuse her orders or worry myself with casualties, she'll suspect. She's suspicious; I've already betrayed her once."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying trust me. I hardly deserve it, but I'm asking you to do it anyway."

"Why should I?"

"Because you were wrong last time."

"I was and I'm sorry. I screwed up."

"You believed the breadcrumbs she left for you. I won't blame you for that."

"That's...surprisingly gracious for you, and don't get me wrong; I'm appreciative as hell, but you must know that me being wrong before doesn't automatically inspire trust in you now."

"Of course not. If it did, I would think you as much of an idiot as…well nevermind." It's clear that she'd been about to say "your parents". Oddly enough, it's the simple fact that Regina had chosen to omit the unnecessary insult that convinces Emma of the sincerity of the former mayor's words.

"Who are you?" Emma asks, stepping closer to the woman who had previously been her enemy. As she does so, she's once again able to inhale the former mayor's scent. No longer like lavender thanks to Regina's absence from her own house, but rather like something cold and artificial. She wonders then if the woman has been using her magic to bathe herself. Weird how sickening and upsetting this thought is to her, especially considering the different ways that she herself has had to clean herself throughout her life. "Just a few months ago we stood in your office and you told me you would never need my help."

"Times change."

"You said it would take a fire."

"And so it has," the older woman whispers, her dark eyes swirling with a thousand pained emotions. "As for who I am, I'm someone who desperately wants her son back, that's all. I'm someone who realizes that the only chance I have of ever being loved by him is to be someone…better. I want to be better."

This amount of honesty is almost too much for Emma, and for a moment, the blonde woman can do little more than gape at the former mayor.

Finally, "All right. I'll let Snow and –"

"No! I'm already taking a massive risk by being here. My mother is sleeping, though so it's a window I couldn't pass up. Once she's awake, she'll be watching everything I do. I need her to buy your parents' reactions. I need her buy mine. If they know, they'll treat me differently. They're not like us, Emma; lying doesn't come easily or naturally to them. If you tell them, she'll know."

"Promise me you won't hurt them."

"I won't do anything that I know they can't deal with."

"That's ominous."

"I can't throw butterflies at them, dear."

"Fair enough. So allies, then?" She extends her hand.

Regina takes the hand, squeezing it lightly. That they both feel magic swirl beneath their touches is something that they both ignore. "Allies."

"Don't make me regret this."

Regina smiles faintly. "You told me once that I'm a terrible liar and an even worse manipulator…"

"Unfortunately, we both know that's not true considering all the times you walked me right into a trap of yours," Emma retorts.

"True, but those times like the one at my house, you ignored your own instincts. Before, you went with pride or anger. I know the feelings well. They blind you; they take you away from your path. They certainly took me away from mine."

"I trust you," Emma says, then, because she suddenly understands that that's what she's supposed to say here. It's more than that, though. It is about listening to what her heart is saying for once. And for once, her heart is telling her to trust.

So she does. And then she can't help but smile when she sees the stunned expression on Regina's face as she squeezes the hand she's holding.

"You should go," Emma says after a few moments of silence. "I need to."

"Of course. Take care of my…our son."

"You know I will."

"I do."

She steps back a few inches, lowering her arms so as to be able to sweep up the magic smoke around herself. She stops, then. "Don't be gone too long."

"Why?"

"I want to be better for him."

"And you are..."

"No, I'm trying, but I'm not good...I've been alone a long time. You start...when there's nothing to fight for...I want to be strong, but I'm not strong."

"You're the strongest damn woman I've ever met," Emma replies.

"Just an illusion, Emma. A lot like the idea of control; just an illusion." And then she sweeps her arms over herself. A cloud of purple smoke encompasses her, and a moment later, she's gone, leaving the blonde standing alone in her room.

She rubs her hands over face, scrubbing at the anxiety that has suddenly burrowed lines into her forehead and cheeks. She has a feeling that things will go upside down no matter the alliance struck, and yet she knows that making it was the right move. She knows that being on the same with Regina is the only chance any of them have to defeat Cora.

She thinks about driving away in her squad car doing unnecessary rounds for Regina's Neighborhood Watch Initiative. She thinks of the anger she'd felt during those pointless drive-abouts, and how she'd vowed to take the mayor down no matter what it took.

She thinks about a fight in the supply closet of the hospital, and how they'd teamed up in the aftermath of it.

She thinks about the kiss that had woken up Henry.

She thinks about seeing Regina lying on the ground of the forest, and then the dark-haired woman having actually welcomed her home with a genuine smile even as Henry had hugged her and all but ignored his adoptive mother.

She thinks about magic outside of the front door of the Mayoral mansion.

She thinks about strength and bravado and arrogance.

She thinks about faith and trust and believing in herself.

She inhales and exhales. And then she exits the room. "Henry," she calls out. "There's been a change of plans, kid. Grab a bag."


	3. 3 Friends

A/N: Thanks as always.

Timeline: Sometime after the defeat of Cora, so end of Season 2.

* * *

_"Raven hair and ruby lips_

_Sparks fly from her finger tips_

_Echoed voices in the night_

_She's a restless spirit on an endless flight"_

**-Witchy Woman, The Eagles**

* * *

It's about five days after Cora's death when Henry – in the middle of a spoonful of Apple Jacks – mumbles out, "I'm worried about my mom." He looks up as he says these words, his big eyes sincere and innocent.

A moment passes as his blonde mother exchanges a look with his grandmother, and he wishes to God that he were old enough to understand what they're saying to each other, but all Henry Mills sees is what looks like worry on Emma's face and something hard on Mary Margaret's. A few more second slide by and then Emma nods her head slowly, her ponytail bobbing as she does, "I am, too, kid."

"Then why haven't you checked on her?" he presses. There's been a noticeable change in his attitude towards Regina over the last few months, ever since the curse had shattered. And now, especially with the events surrounding Cora's death fresh in his mind, it's like he's finally seeing the truth of who his mother is - both the good and the bad. Finally, he's starting to understand her capable of real benevolent love.

"I have," Emma insists. "I've called her at least a dozen times. Even went by the house, but she's not answering the door. I think…I think she wants to be alone."

He shakes his head, "She's been alone all her life, Emma. She might think that's what she wants right now, but it's not. Not anymore." He says this with such conviction and sincerity that it's just about impossible not to believe him.

"Henry," Snow says softly, in a tone that he recognizes as her soothing supposed to be calming teacher voice. "Your mom has suffered a tremendous loss…

"I know. And I know that she did what she did in order to save me. To save all of us, actually. Which is why we should be making sure that she's okay now." He looks over at Emma. "I know you've tried, but my mom when she's hurt, well she's kind of stubborn about letting people in."

"He's right," Snow mutters, and then quickly remembering herself – and that she's not actually in favor of what Henry wants – she clamps her mouth closed.

After casting a curious look at Snow, Henry says to Emma, "Try again. Please?"

"All right," Emma agrees. "After I drop you off at school, I'll go over and see her."

"Promise you'll make her let you in? Promise you'll make her hear you out."

Emma offers him a tight smile. "Yeah, I promise, kid."

He grins at her in response, stuffs one more spoonful of cereal in his mouth, hands Snow the bowl, and then leaps up from the stool. "Cool. I'll go grab my backpack." And with that, he's racing from the room, taking the steps to the upper floor two at a time, his feet pounding loudly against the stairs.

"You sure about this?" Snow asks once she's sure Henry is out of earshot. "You don't owe Regina anything."

"Am I sure about forcing her to let me in and then finding a magical non-magical way to get her to listen to me? Not even a little bit. Sounds like a hell of lot like a way to get myself thrown all the way back to Boston," Emma chuckles.

"Then don't go."

"I promised Henry."

"I know," Snow sighs. But then, frowning a bit. "You'd have done it even if you hadn't promised him, though, wouldn't you have?"

"Yeah," Emma agrees. "She helped kill her own mother to save us. You saw what she looked like afterward. You saw same as I did how…broken she was."

Snow runs a hand over her face, settling her eyes and nose into the crook of her palm for a moment. These are the moments where she finds herself struggling with herself; trying to decide who she is and who she wants to be.

No one in the world would blame her for turning her back on Regina after all that the former queen has done to her. No one would fault her for standing in Emma's way and refusing to allow the daughter that she'd lost for twenty-eight years to become the connective glue between she and Regina.

And yet, try as she might, she finds herself as unable to forget about the visuals she'd seen on the battlefield. The blood and the tears and the screams of heartache. There are things that can't be unseen and Regina crouched over her mothers' gory body, wailing and shuddering is one of those things.

More importantly, though, the look on her stubborn daughter's face tells her that even trying to stop her now would be useless; Emma and Regina have some kind of connection, and maybe it's just Henry or maybe it's something more than him, but whatever it is, they seem to understand each other in a way that frankly makes Snow just a little bit jealous. She knows that no matter what she says or does here, Emma is going to go and at least try to check in Regina.

And so she chooses to be the person she wants to be; Snow nods her head slowly. "Just…be careful, okay? The last time someone she loved died…"

"This isn't like that," Emma counters. "She helped to do this."

"And don't you think that might just make it that much worse?"

"Maybe, but I think we owe her. I owe her."

"You owe her nothing," Snow repeats, unable to hide her passion. She considers reminding Emma of the darkness of her youth, but pulls up short because that would be cruel and unnecessary; those are waking nightmares that Emma couldn't forget even if she wanted to.

"I do," Emma says simply.

"Why?"

"Because I was right when I told you and David at the police station that I know her. She's a pain in the ass and she's self-destructive and she's violent and manipulative and a whole hell of a lot of other awful things, but she does want to be better than what she is. For Henry, and I think maybe even for you if she could manage to dig down past all of the hurt and anger."

"You're reaching," Snow says softly, a slight tremor to her voice.

"Maybe, but I believe in what I saw in her eyes when she came to see me before I went to New York, and I know the look she had on her face when she killed her mother. That was someone who killed the one person left in the world that she believed still loved her because it was the right thing to do. What are we…what am I if I don't try to be there for her after that?"

"Okay, I get it," Snow sighs. "But promise me, Emma, that you'll be careful. You may think you know this Regina better than I do, and you may even be right, but don't underestimate how dangerous she is when she's hurting."

Emma chuckles at this. "Oh, I never underestimate her, trust me. I know what she's capable of, and I know how to get the reactions I'm looking for."

"Just…be safe."

"I will."

It's at that moment that Henry makes his reappearance, backpack slung over his flannel clad shoulders. He smiles up at the women. "Ready?"

"As I'm ever going to be," Emma answers. "Let's go."

* * *

The white mansion looks as imposing as ever as the blonde sheriff slowly makes her way up to the front door, her hands jammed tight into her pockets. That she's more than a little nervous is undeniable; it's not every day you try to offer comfort to the woman responsible for you having grown up without your parents.

No, that's not exactly fair nor accurate.

Regina's committed many a sin, but the choice to be separated from Snow and David had been theirs, and not the former queen's. Regina can be held to the casting of the curse, and many other things, but not the dividing of the family.

Besides, all of that is just noise anyway; she's nervous because they're relationship isn't what it had once been. Only a few months ago, there'd been comfort and ease in their combative hostility. Emma had known how to handle – and at times manhandle – the mayor. She'd known how to piss the woman off and how to crawl beneath her skin. Nowadays, she's not sure what she knows no matter what she'd told her mother previously.

This Regina – the one that she'd argued with outside of the diner, the one who had come to her room to plead for her trust – is someone else entirely. There's still a gruff toughness to her, but there's also vulnerability bursting through. It's painful, and it's bloody, but it's real and raw and Emma finds that the longer she sees that truth shining in Regina's dark eyes, the more she's incapable of turning away and leaving the woman to the fate that she probably richly deserves.

She thinks back to the final battle in the middle of town. It'd been Cora and Hook against almost everyone else – including Regina who had begged her mother to stand down and end things peacefully. Cora had refused, of course, and even though the numbers had been terribly slanted, Storybrooke had almost come up horribly short. That is until Cora – in a moment of madness, perhaps - had tried to use Henry as leverage to force Regina back to her side.

Emma's mind flashes with images of Regina staggering towards Cora, her hand held towards her mother as if in offering. Unfortunately for Cora, what she'd been holding had been her mother's beating heart, which the former queen had promptly shoved right back into Cora's chest. "Do it," she'd whispered, then, meeting Emma's shocked green eyes. She'd fallen backwards just a few inches, but had been close enough to feel the spray of blood when Emma had thrust David's sword through Cora's body, the sharp tip of it exiting the back of her.

Emma shudders violently at the vivid almost vulgar images in her head. Over the last few days, she's done everything humanly possible to not think about them; to not fixate on the fact that she hadn't just killed a human being, she'd impaled her.

"Jesus," she mumbles, and she sees that her hands are shaking. "Get ahold of yourself," she orders. "Won't be any good to anyone like this."

"Do you always talk to yourself, Miss Swan?" a quiet voice says from behind her.

In spite of herself – in spite of her all her training which has taught her how to never be surprised – Emma actually jumps just a little bit, her hand sliding over her thumping heart, and her mouth falling open in shock. "No?" she stammers as she turns to regard the former mayor. The woman is standing there, dressed like she's about to go to the office – all the way down to boots and makeup.

It's a show, of course, and Emma knows this, but it's a vaguely reassuring one. That is until she looks a little bit harder and notices the dark shadows beneath the makeup - sure signs of insomnia and exhaustion. Even the way Regina moves is a bit sluggish and slow, like she's stretching out weary muscles.

"That sounded more like a question than an answer," Regina comments, and though the words sound like the mayor of old, the tone is decidedly off. The words themselves are caustic and biting, but the voice is quiet, almost sad.

"I…yeah…I've been by here about ten times over the last several days."

"I know," Regina answers simply as she makes her way to the front door.

"Great. So where the hell have you been?"

Regina's eyebrow lifts up at this. "Have I been sentenced to house arrest without me knowing it?" She shrugs then, "I suppose that's the least I deserve."

"No…no, that's…that's not what this is about. I'm not here because of...look, Regina, there's not going to be any more punishment, okay?"

"Really. Hm, well that would be a first."

"Hey, you're no innocent."

"I don't believe I have ever claimed that I was, Miss Swan; I simply wanted others to pay for their sins as much as I have always paid for mine."

"Fair enough," Emma answers simply because this is a discussion that doesn't fit the purpose she came over to the mansion for; she's not here to fight. "But that doesn't answer my question as to where you've been for the last week?"

"I've been here. I just didn't feel like answering the door. Or your calls. I would think by the point I'd ignored you for the twentieth time, you'd get the message that I wished to be alone with my thoughts. Alone meaning without you around." She's staring directly at Emma when she says this, the gaze hard and cold.

Emma shifts uncomfortably. "All right. Well that's…I guess that makes everything easy. I'll uh…I'm sorry for bothering you, Regina. I'll leave you to your thoughts."

She shakes her head then, her frustration and irritation swaying along with her blonde hair, and turns to walk back down the path to her car. It's after she's taken her sixth step that the deep low voice calls her back with, "I took a walk."

Emma turns back. "What?"

"I haven't been out of the house since what happened…happened. I needed some air. That's where I've been for most of today. Walking around."

"Has it helped?"

"No. I still see the look on her face when I put her heart back in her chest. I still feel…I feel her blood on me." She shakes her head. "I'm tired."

"Why are you telling me this?" Emma asks as she steps closer, coming to within an inch of the former queen. The lavender smell is back, but there's a healthy tang of sweat mixing with the scent, possibly even accentuating it.

"I don't know," Regina admits. "Maybe I've been alone with my thoughts for so long that I just…I needed to say them out loud for a moment."

"Okay. Well that's what I'm here for."

"Why? Why would you want to help me?"

"Because we're allies, Regina, remember?"

"Allies doesn't obligate you to be my shoulder to cry on."

"Is that what you need?" Emma asks, eyebrow up.

"And if it were, is that would you offer me, Sheriff?"

"My shoulders are kind of boney and I'm likely to piss you off by patting you on the back and saying 'there, there', but I'm willing to try if that's what you need."

"Because you're my ally?"

"Because you haven't been sleeping," Emma counters. "And neither have I, and maybe right now, we can help each other through this."

Regina sighs at that. "Would you like to come inside for a drink?"

"It's not even noon yet," Emma notes.

"I wasn't proposing that we get drunk, Miss Swan; I was simply suggesting that perhaps we get more comfortable if we're going to start crying on each other." It's said with an almost comical amount of disdain, enough that Emma chuckles.

"Sure," the blonde shrugs. "Why not?"

* * *

It's whiskey and not apple cider that Regina offers up this time, the amber liquid encased in thick crystal that makes it easy to forget just how far the former queen has fallen from grace. They're seated across from each other in the study, both of them remembering a time not long ago when they'd mirrored these poses.

They'd been just meeting back then. So much has changed since that day.

Everything, really.

Regina had been the cold, stoic and imposing mayor and Emma had been the uncouth, slightly nervous and very awkward outsider butting her way in.

There's still both of a little bit of these people, and perhaps it's this realization that causes almost ten minutes of silence to chip away before Emma finally speaks up between sips from the crystal tumbler, "I've never killed anyone before her."

"Maleficent was a person at one time," Regina corrects, but there's no malice in the tone. It's almost like she simply stating a fact.

"Yeah, but she was a fire breathing dragon when I put a sword in her."

Regina shrugs her shoulders at this. "She was pretty much the same in human form, just a whole lot prettier."

"But she was your friend, right?"

"I suppose. We called each other that, but it was mostly our way of saying that there was someone that we wouldn't screw over just for the hell of it. Truth is, though, people like she and I don't have friends. We don't know how to."

"Well," Emma chuckles. "I think rule one is exactly what you said: you try not to screw them over as much as possible."

"Yes, well, there you go. I trapped Maleficent in her dragon form for thirty years for daring to warn me off the curse so clearly, friendship is not a strong suit of mine." She sounds defeated, almost resigned when she speaks.

"So that's it, then? You don't know how so you won't even try?"

"Why do you care so much?" Regina counters. "Would you like to be my friend, Miss Swan? Is that what this is about? Feeling lonely, dear?"

"Jesus, Regina, can't you ever just have a conversation that doesn't involve you being a jerk just because you can?" Emma growls out, scowling as she speaks.

She's not sure exactly what she's expecting, but the quick almost painful sagging of the brunette's shoulders isn't it. Within the space of three seconds, Regina goes from almost pompously puffed up to completely deflated and devastated.

"No," she says softly. "I can't."

Silence fills the room once more, and then again; it's Emma who breaks it. Not with her voice this time, but by standing up and going over to where the decanter of whiskey is. She refills her glass, then swaps it out with Regina's empty one.

"It's not even noon," the older woman reminds her.

"Yeah, well, you're not going anywhere."

"I'm not?"

"Not anywhere that doesn't include up to your bedroom."

Regina's eyebrow lifts. "Either you're coming onto me, Sheriff or this is a very odd attempt at trying to take care of me. Actually, come to think of it, it'd be a very odd attempt at coming on to me as well."

"Yeah, well, until I got here, I'd never had anyone actually try to take care of me so what would I know about that?" Emma chuckles. If her tone wasn't so light, Regina might actually be a bit stung by the words, but it's clear to her that Emma doesn't intend for that to occur. "As for coming on to you, trust me: I'm smoother."

"Are you now?" Regina queries, sitting up straight in her seat, an almost predatory smile sliding across her red lips.

Emma cocks her head. "Are you coming on to _me_ now?"

"Perhaps. Are you telling me that you've never thought about it?"

"Thought about us? As in you and me being…"

"Sexual with each other, Sheriff," Regina says, the smile growing, and her eyes suddenly lighting up just a bit as she recognizes a challenge. "I know enough about your past to know that I wouldn't be the first woman you'd sleep with."

"No, you wouldn't, but honestly, Your Majesty, this is as pathetic of a an attempt to make me go away as being a jerk to me was."

"Ah," Regina nods, almost immediately closing up, her shoulders tightening and her posture becoming almost defense. "Of course."

"Of course what?"

"I misread. My apologies."

"Bullshit, Regina. You didn't misread anything; you're just really screwed up, and have no idea how to have an adult relationship of any kind with anyone."

"Yes, well that part is true, at least."

"Look, you're exhausted and I'm exhausted. How about you go up and sleep, and we can continue this conversation after you've had a couple hours of rest."

"What conversation is there to continue?"

"The one about how we get past what happened out there. Both of us."

"I still don't understand why you're here. Is it for Henry? Is that why you're –"

"Yes and no. He asked me to check on you, but I was doing it before he asked. I'm here because I want to be here. I'm here because we're…"

"Allies."

"Friends, I think. Not normal ones, but I think maybe just the same."

"That's absurd," Regina counters.

"Only because you don't have a clue in the world what a friend is."

"And you do?"

"I have Mary Margaret and I have Ruby. Who do you have?"

"Point taken. Shall we braid our hair now?"

"And there's the trademark bitchiness I've come to expect from you," Emma chuckles. "At least that one was sort of funny."

"I'm so pleased that I could amuse you," comes the dry response.

"Good. Then take your pleased self upstairs," Emma orders. She's a bit surprised to hear an odd lightness to her tone. Some might even call it flirtatious.

"And I'm just supposed to leave you alone in my house?"

"Well, I was planning on napping here on the couch, but if I should be looking around for a meth lab, just let me know."

Regina wrinkles her nose in disgust at this.

"Exactly. I'll see you in a few hours."

"You don't have to do this," Regina says softly. "Wait around, I mean. I've taken care of myself for a very long time."

"I know you have; we both have, but I would like to stay, and unless you're kicking me out, that's what I plan to do. So are you?"

"No. You can stay." She thinks for a moment, then asks, "Were you telling the truth about there not being any further punishment?"

"I think it's time we all start with a clean slate. No one forgets, but I think maybe it's time for everyone to forgive," Emma suggests.

"You're not naïve enough to believe that to be simple," Regina counters.

"Of course not, but I figure if you can do this, then maybe's there hope."

"Maybe," the brunette concedes, and perhaps it's because she is so exhausted and worn down and sick of fighting everything including herself, but she finds herself actually hoping that Emma's words have validity to them. "Emma," she says after a long moment. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," the blonde replies. "I want to be here."

"I know, but it's nice to have a…thank you." She steps forward then and very lightly, very tentatively presses her soft lips against Emma's. It's completely sweet and chaste; the kind of kiss that can mean absolutely nothing if that's what you want it to mean, and yet everything if you would prefer it to go that way. It lasts perhaps a few seconds longer than a purely platonic one should, but it never moves beyond the surface. It stays innocent; a fairly curious thing considering the two women involved.

Regina steps away after a moment, the older woman's dark eyes wide and curious. She seems even a little bit nervous, but you wouldn't know it if you don't know Regina's body language. Emma does, though, and she sees the slight tremor of Regina's hand, recognizes the uncertainty there. Perhaps even fear that she'd crossed a line or done something that could jeopardize this strange new relationship that they've shifted their way into.

"A friend," Emma says then, finishing Regina's previous sentence.

"Yes," Regina nods, clearly relieved that her impulsive action hadn't ruined things. Then, composing herself anew, "If you leave before I wake, please make sure to lock the door behind you."

"I won't," Emma promises her. "I'll be right here."

"I believe you," the brunette answers, then quickly turns and makes her way up the stairs, leaving Emma to wonder what the hell had just occurred.

Leaving her to wonder why it feels like once again, everything between them has changed.


	4. 4 Lovers

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Many thanks for the kind words. For those interested in Concordance - I'll pick up that one again as soon as this one concludes. Turns out I'm terrible at running two stories concurrently.

Timeline: End of S2, after Cora's death. This follows chapter 3 fairly close.

Content warning: very mild f/f sexual content at the end of the chapter. Some language.

* * *

_"Picture, you're the queen of everything_

_As far as the eye can see_

_Under your command_

_I will be your guardian_

_When all is crumbling_

_To steady your hand"_

**-Never Say Never, The Fray**

* * *

It's the silent buzzing of her cell that brings Emma back to her waking senses at just after two in the afternoon. For many years now, she's kept her phone on vibrate only. While a wonderfully obnoxious ringtone might appeal to the less mature parts of herself, it's seldom useful in actuality. Especially when your day job is all about trying to quietly track, stalk and take down bad guys.

She groans as she rolls over on the couch, her arm swinging out and then down to grab at the brown suede jacket that she'd dropped onto the floor before her nap. She yanks out her still buzzing phone, glances down on screen (which reads MM) and answers it with a dramatic stab of her pointer finger. "Hey."

"Hey," Snow repeats softly. "I uh…I…how…how's it going?" Her voice is tentative and uncertain and it hits Emma quite suddenly just how terribly and honestly uncomfortable with this whole situation her mother actually is. Which is just a little bit funny because really, Snow only knows bits and pieces of what's going on between she and Regina. Then again, Emma muses, Snow's hardly alone in this.

"As good as can be expected," Emma answers as she sits up. She winds a hand through her unruly hair, frowning slightly as her fingers bump up against a tangle.

"Which means…"

"Regina is Regina."

Snow laughs. "Again, which means…"

Emma sighs, "I don't know; we took a break."

"A break? Are you…are you doing all right?"

"Yeah, I am. She's not. She's exhausted; I don't think she's been sleeping, and well, if I'm going to keep my promise to Henry, I need to make sure she's okay."

"Emma…"

"I know. I mean I get it, I do; I don't owe her anything."

"You don't."

"And you're right, but I do owe me this. She and I…we killed her mother together. I feel like this is something we need to work through."

"Together?" Snow asks, her voice shaking just a bit. "Emma, honey, it's not that simple. It's not like you're…bonded because of what you two did."

"Actually, it's exactly like that."

There's a long pause and then, quietly, "I don't trust her."

"I know, and you're right not to, but you do trust me, right?"

"Of course."

"Then trust me now. Regina isn't the woman that you knew thirty years ago back in your home…world. She's not even the woman that I knew six months ago. This is someone different; someone that I really believe deserves a break."

"And you intend to give her it?"

"I do."

"If she hurts you…"

"She won't."

"If she does…if so she so much as causes you a papercut, I'll kill her."

Emma chuckles. "Shouldn't you be telling her this instead of me?"

"Put her on the phone and I will."

"She's still asleep."

"Convenient," Snow replies, but this time she sounds at least moderately amused. After a beat, she adds, "I love you, Emma."

"I know, and that means…well honestly it means more than you could ever imagine. Right now, though, I need you to have faith in my instincts."

"All right. If you need anything…"

"I'll call," Emma assures her even though she knows that there's almost no chance of such a call. The relationship between she and Regina – where they are right now – is intensely personal and it doesn't involve Snow.

Not anymore, anyway.

"Will you be home for dinner?"

"Should be. I'll call you if I'm going to be late."

There's another pregnant pause and then, "This is all for Henry, right?"

"Not all," Emma admits with a slightly uncomfortable chuckle as she thinks back to the slight kiss that had occurred a few hours earlier. Reasonably chaste though it'd been, it'd also been a bit of a wakeup call for the blonde.

"Emma," Snow starts.

She's barely gotten the word out before Emma interrupts, "Look, I'll talk to you later." And with that, she hangs up the phone and pockets it. She knows it wasn't exactly proper etiquette to end the conversation without an actual goodbye, but she has a fairly good idea that Snow might have concerns as to her real reasons for wanting to assist the fallen queen. Honestly, she has concerns, too.

But Emma Swan has never been one to slow down just because of a few worries, and she's sure as hell not about to start now.

Even if maybe she should.

* * *

"You made me lunch?" the brunette woman rumbles as she enters the kitchen. She's wearing a pair of charcoal dress slacks and a plain white shirt; for Regina, this is casual. As long as you ignore the high heels she's rocking, anyway. One of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows is lifted in amused curiosity.

"Hm?" Emma asks, turning from her spot next to the bar. She wipes her mouth free of crumbs with the back of her hand, and then adds, "No, I made me lunch."

"Ah," Regina nods as she glances at the plate that's stacked high with rather appetizing looking sandwiches. "Do you always eat four BLTs all by yourself?"

"Sometimes," Emma answers with a bit of a crooked self-depreciating smile. She then pushes the plate across to Regina. "Sit. I'm not much in the way of cooking, but these? Well, these, I'm pretty badass at. Figured you might be hungry."

"Thank you," Regina answers with a faint smile, dropping down onto the stool next to Emma. She glances around the kitchen, noticing the slight messiness of it. She considers for a moment commenting on the disarray, but then chooses not to; such commentary would seem ungrateful.

"You're welcome. How'd you sleep?"

"As good as can be expected."

"Huh."

"What?"

"Mary Margaret…my mother…she asked me how things were going with you know…us. And what you just said? That what I told her," Emma responds between oversized bites. "I guess we're on the same wavelength."

Regina simply rolls her eyes in response, and then lifts up her sandwich and takes an almost dainty bite. It's ridiculous and Emma can't help but laugh.

"What now?"

"Have you ever done something absurd?"

"I cursed a bunch of storybook characters to Maine."

"Besides that."

"I yanked out hearts like they were candy inside of piñatas for almost ten years."

"Okay, I meant something besides what you did when you were…her."

"I presume by her you're referring to the Evil Queen?" Regina queries with a lifted eyebrow and a tone that's as dry as sandpaper.

"Yeah. _Her_."

"Mm. Well, I did kiss you a few hours ago."

"Ah, so we are going to talk about that again," Emma says with a nod that's both approving and pensive. She turns the stool so that she's facing the older woman.

"No," comes the quiet response as Regina lowers her head and focuses on the sandwich that she's mostly just picking at. Her appetite isn't strong these days – hasn't been since the curse broke – and this conversation isn't helping.

"But we are."

"We're not," Regina states, pushing away from the counter. She stands up and lightly brushes her hands against each other, as if to clean off crumbs.

Emma shrugs her shoulders in response. "Too late; we are."

"Dammit, Emma…"

Emma smiles at this. "Good, step one: you called me by my actual name."

"Dare I ask what step two is?"

"Step two is we actually talk."

"Aren't we? I'm pretty sure your mouth is moving like it usually is."

Emma smirks in response. "No, we're bantering, and while I enjoy it more than I probably should, it's not why I came over today."

"Henry is."

"No, Regina; you are. I'm here because I was serious about what I said before. I want to be your friend. I want to help you through what happened out there, and I want you to help me through it."

"Why?" Regina moves closer to the blonde, standing over her, almost looming. "Why – of all people - do you want my help?"

"Because I think maybe you're the only one who can help me."

"Your mother can."

Emma says nothing for a long moment, and then quietly, "My mother has never killed anyone. Not like that anyway."

"Ah, so we're friends now because we're both murderers. Lovely."

Emma sighs as she stands up. She walks the plate around to the sink, rinses it and places it into the dishwasher. "You really can't make anything easy."

"Nothing in my life has ever been easy, Emma; why should saving me be so?"

Emma turns back to face the older woman. "Who said I was here to save you?"

"Aren't you? Isn't that what this is? The White Knight saving the Evil Queen."

"No. I don't believe in being saved by someone else. Maybe helped, but not saved. You're no damsel in distress, Your Majesty; you can save yourself."

Their eyes meet for a moment at this, and Emma gets the distinct feeling that Regina is searching her for any sign of dishonesty, any signal that this could be a manipulation. After a moment, the brunette sighs, "Well that's a relief, at least."

"What's that?"

Regina shrugs her shoulder as if to suggest disinterest that they both know is a lie. "I never much cared for the all of the wonderfully romantic stories about stalwart heroes coming to rescue the damsel. They always felt so very…exclusive."

"I know the feeling," Emma admits. "So we save ourselves, and we deal with this and we get over it and get on with our lives."

"Easier for you than me, my dear. I am still the Evil Queen."

"And I'm the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Some mornings, I want to find a bottle of whiskey and a Hershey bar and crawl back into bed. Other mornings, I want to run to my car and get the hell out of this batshit crazy town."

"But…but you won't," Regina says. It sounds like a statement, but she's a bit betrayed by the uncertain waver in her voice. Like she's afraid that if she poses it as a question that it would reveal thoughts that she'd prefer to keep to herself.

Emma sees right through her, though. "I'm not going anywhere, Regina. I've spent so much of my life wanting a family and now I have it. It's the most fucking bizarre family in the world and at times I want to scream because…well because of everything, but if I run from them…from this, then I'm nothing but a coward. I'm a lot of things – some of them pretty shitty, honestly – but I'm no coward."

"No, you're most certainly not," Regina agrees.

"Wow," Emma grins. "That almost sounded…appreciative."

Regina clears her throat and then lifts her chin, taking on a almost regal posture that's more mirage than it has ever been. "I appreciate lunch," she offers.

"Ah. Just lunch?"

"Well, and I suppose the company, too. It does get…quiet around here."

"Okay," Emma nods, and then falls quiet again because she can tell that there's still a bit more. This isn't a mutual appreciation conversation; this is Regina allowing for a few moments of honesty, a few moments of vulnerability and truth.

"And…" Regina start and then stops for a long moment, her face settling into a frown that heavily creases her beautifully tanned face. "I…I appreciate you doing what I never could have done. I appreciate you saving Henry."

Emma steps towards the fallen queen slowly. "_We_ saved Henry. If you hadn't returned Cora's heart, what I did wouldn't have mattered. We did it together."

"You're really into this whole together thing, aren't you, Sheriff?" Regina chuckles, looking more than a little bit uncomfortable. That she takes a step backwards, giving up ground that she has very seldom voluntarily surrendered in her long and twisted life is something that Emma doesn't miss.

"Every now and again, it's kind of nice not to be alone," Emma states.

"I wouldn't know."

"You do now."

There's another long moment of silence between them, and then Regina says in a voice that's practically trembling, "I think you should go home."

"If you want me to."

"I do." There's an undercurrent to her words, an almost frantic need, and Emma gets it; this raw exposure is too much and too soon. But it is real.

And that's a start.

"But I will be back," Emma assures her.

"You don't…I don't need to be saved."

"I thought we already established that."

Regina simply nods her head, suddenly unable to find words to explain the swirl of somewhat conflicting emotions that is spinning wildly around within her.

"Good," and then Emma leans forward and this time, she's the one initiating the kiss. This one is less than chaste, but not quite passionate. Still tentative enough to be mistaken as something other than romantic, but only if you really try.

When it's over and they're just staring at each other, both of them a little bit breathless, Emma's not nearly as sure about her actions as she'd been when she'd leaned in. Especially considering the silence that's hanging between them.

Finally, "Okay, I'm going to go now."

"That's…a good idea," Regina answers, and Emma doesn't miss the way the brunette's hand lifts up towards her face, and then suddenly stops. She wonders if the former queen had been about to touch her lips.

"Yeah. You think maybe you'll be up to seeing Henry tomorrow?" Emma asks as she walks from the kitchen back to the study (followed closely by Regina and her perfectly tapping heels) and yanks on her suede jacket.

"I'm not sickly, Miss Swan," Regina answers, her spine stiffening and her posture straightening. "I can handle a visit from my own son."

"I know you can, but he's going to ask you if you're okay."

"And I'll tell him that I am."

"So you'll lie, then."

Regina considers countering, but then sighs. "What else would you have me do?"

Emma surprises her by laughing in response. It's neither a cold nor a cruel sound, instead one that's oddly warm and understanding. "Fake it 'til you make it, huh? Well I guess that's what we're both doing, then."

Regina looks more than a little surprised by this. She's not used to people trying to understand her and empathize with her plight – certainly not the woman who'd made it her personal mission to tear the Mayor down not six months earlier. And yet, she can't deny the odd kinship she feels for the infuriating blonde.

And try as she might, she can't deny the odd feeling of comfort that the woman seems to cause to grow within her chest.

She can – and will - however, deny the other things that she's feeling.

And so she does. She plasters a smile on – one that vaguely reminds Emma of the one Regina had worn as the Mayor – and says, "I would love to see Henry tomorrow. And I thank you for lunch. Have a nice evening, Miss Swan."

It rather infuriates her that Emma's only reaction to her odd change of direction in the conversation is an entirely too knowing smirk. "You, too Regina."

She's gone a moment later, head back down the path, back towards her car.

And Regina is once again alone.

It takes everything she has not to call Emma back.

* * *

When Emma arrives with Henry the next afternoon, Regina's moderately surprised that the blonde doesn't insist on staying to chaperone, however absurd the idea of her needing such is. Instead, Emma tells them to have a good time, and takes off in her Bug.

While she's gone, it's just she and Henry again and he does ask her if she's okay. She starts to lie, starts to tell him that she is and then softly says instead, "I will be." He smiles at her, then, because he's only eleven but he knows the truth when he hears it. He nods his head and he believes her and she feels like maybe something good can actually come out of something as horrendous as the death of her mother was.

Emma doesn't return until about eight that evening, and when she does, she brings ice cream which the three of them enjoy around the kitchen counter. When she and Henry finally leave at just before ten, she grins back over her shoulder at Regina.

And the former queen knows that she's falling, and that there will soon come a day when she won't be able to stop herself from calling Emma back.

* * *

It's two weeks to the day that she and Emma had teamed up to kill her mother when the sheriff shows up at her door with a half empty bottle of whiskey and an impish smile. It's past midnight, but neither one of them pays attention to this.

"Let's drink," she says simply once Regina has opened the door.

"I do have my own liquor," the brunette reminds her with a dry chuckle.

"I'm practicing etiquette," Emma answers.

"Are you now? Is it proper etiquette to start on your own?" Regina queries as the blonde woman passes her by and the light smell of liquor moves with her.

"It's been a day," Emma answers as she pours them both a drink and then slumps down onto the couch, her posture utterly undignified.

"Because of…"

"What happened two weeks ago?" Emma finishes. "Yeah. And work stuff."

"Ah. Well I don't have much of the latter, but more than enough of the former."

"Guilt?"

"No," Regina answers between sips. "Regret."

"You regret doing what we did?"

"She was my mother, Emma; a child should never have to kill their own mother."

"I know. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Regina smiles slightly at this because what else is there to say? The sincerity she hears coming from the blonde is enough for her; it's enough for both of them, and for the next ten minutes, all they do is drink in companionable easy silence.

Finally, "Does your mother know you're here?"

Emma chuckles, "No. She thinks I'm working late."

"Slippery slope, my dear."

"Lying to my mother, you mean?"

"Indeed."

"Well, soon enough that won't be a problem. She and David are moving into a house a couple miles away. They're giving me the loft."

"So you and Henry will be staying there." It's a statement, and Emma can't quite help the surge of empathy she feels due to the resigned tone she hears.

"For now," Emma nods. "But I was hoping maybe we could start talking about a better custody arrangement. Something more shared."

Regina's head jerks up. "If this is the alcohol speaking, Miss Swan…"

"I'm still Emma even when you're annoyed with me," the blonde reminds her. "And I think we are well past you trying to push me away with my last name."

Regina sighs. "Fine."

"Good. Want another drink?"

"Is that the plan for tonight? To get drunk together and try to pretend like we're both not thinking about murdering my mother?"

"Why not?" Emma shrugs. "I don't dream when I'm drunk, and I'd prefer not to dream tonight if it's all the same to you."

"I know the feeling."

"Then you'll drink with me? Or would you prefer I leave because I…I'd understand if you don't want to…I get it, I mean."

"Do you?"

"No. She was your mother but she was…"

"A monster who wasn't worth your guilt or my regret."

"And yet here we are."

"Exactly," Regina nods. "So no, Emma, I don't want you to leave." She frowns a bit when she says this, as if understanding what saying those words means to the two of them, how it causes yet another alteration within their ever changing and evolving relationship. This is the moment that she has known was coming - the one where she calls Emma back (if not literally, certainly figuratively). "I want you to stay," she says after a few second. "I don't…I don't really want to be alone myself right now."

"Okay, then I stay, and we drink." She holds up her empty glass.

"Need I remind you that it hardly seems like dealing to do so," the brunette counters. "And I thought that that was to be our goal. Deal and move on."

"And we are, but sometimes dealing means letting down for a few minutes, Regina. Sometimes it means you find somewhere safe and you drink a bit too much and then in the morning, you wake up and you take on the world again."

"You feel safe here?"

Emma blinks. "Yeah…I…I guess I do."

Regina doesn't say anything in response, simply stands up, collects Emma's glass from her, refills it and hands it back. Emma offers her a smile that's just short of shy, and then brings the liquor to her lips and drinks it down.

* * *

Emma's dead out within the hour, snoring lightly, turned on her side. Regina watches this for far longer than she should, but there's something bizarrely compelling about the way Emma sleeps. Not the peaceful rest of the innocent, but the restless slumber of someone running from demons.

Regina knows the feeling all too well.

She stands up, crosses the room, and bends down. She removes the sheriff's boots, and then slides a blanket atop her. She holds for a moment, and then leans forward and presses a kiss lightly against Emma's warm cheek.

"Goodnight, dear," she whispers, then turns and leaves the room.

* * *

Morning brings with it a headache and an almost spastically buzzing phone. Emma finds herself lying on the couch, her shoes off, and a blanket over her.

She checks the phone, sees five voicemails and three texts from Snow and another two from Ruby. It's Saturday, though, so at least she's not late to work. She quickly taps out a text to Snow telling her that she's crashed out at a friend's house and that everything is fine. She knows she'll just end up answering more questions later, but honestly, there's no way to avoid this conversation.

So best just to delay it.

When the response of "what friend?" comes back, she simply chuckles because Snow isn't a fool, and yeah, this is going to be a fun conversation, indeed.

She puts the phone back into her pocket and slowly, wincing at the pain ricocheting through her skull, makes her way into the kitchen. It's empty, but she sees a note on the counter:

_Had errands to run. There are pancakes in the oven if you're hungry. There's aspirin in the top drawer in my desk in the study if you require it. Lock the door behind you when you leave, please._

She chuckles to herself because Regina's absence feels a bit like trying to avoid an uncomfortable morning after and all they'd done is drink together. Then, because her stomach suddenly growls, she makes her way over to the oven.

It's not until she's halfway through the tall stack that she realizes that Regina had trusted her enough to leave her alone in the house.

* * *

Snow is understandably absolutely not pleased with who her "friend" turns out to be and presses her daughter to reconsider the frequent visits but Emma - stubborn as ever - holds her ground, and tells her mother that she plans to continue going over to the house to see the former queen.

Because she's the Savior and Regina needs her, she insists.

That she needs Regina as well now, and she's coming to grips with this more and more by the day is something she keeps to herself.

Snow would never understood. She's pretty sure no one would.

No one except Regina, and perhaps that's the reason she keeps going over to see her.

* * *

What they've both come to accept as the inevitable finally happens almost two months after Cora's death. They're sharing beers, and Regina is commenting on just how low class this kind of liquor is (she's humoring Emma, though, because just a few days earlier the blonde had tried out a dry wine that she'd detested) when Emma decides to try to shut the former queen up with a kiss.

She figures she's just inebriated enough to get away with it.

But then to her surprise, Regina doesn't pull away. In fact, the brunette pulls her closer and deepens the kiss, sliding her tongue between Emma's lips.

When it's over and they're staring at each other, Emma says, "This is crazy."

Regina nods her head, and starts to pull back and away, a blush covering her cheeks. "Of course; you're right. I'm sorry if…"

"I'm not. Sorry, I mean. This is crazy, but I'm not sorry," Emma answers and then leans in again and presses her mouth against Regina's. After a few moments of lips and teeth and tongues, she uses her hands to press the older woman down onto the couch cushions, settling herself atop Regina's hips moments later.

"Are you sure?" the brunette asks, sounding more than a little tentative and unsure. She lifts a hand to push a strand of blonde hair back behind Emma's ear. It's an oddly intimate gesture and it seals the deal for Emma.

"I am. Are you?"

"No one will think differently of me for sleeping with you," Regina reminds her, "But everyone will think less of you for touching me."

"I could give a fuck what anyone thinks," Emma answers.

"You know this will change everything, right?" Regina presses because she knows that if this happens and Emma wakes up with regrets, it'll destroy her.

"Yeah, but maybe it's time for things to change." And with that, she presses Regina back down on the couch again and kisses her once more.

* * *

The first time is always insanity to begin with but when both partners are reasonably equal in strength and force, it can cause for a certain kind of friction within the bedroom. This is true for the two of them as well, but it turns out that friction between them is as well received now as it has always been.

They battle to get their clothes off as they clumsily climb the stairs together, each of them trying to disrobe the other first while keeping their mouths connected and their hands moving over rapidly exposed warm flesh.

They battle to figure out who will be on top and who will be on bottom, and then end up settling for a swirling set that provides each of them with opportunity to both dominate and submit. At times, they settle for lying across from each other as they gain breath, simply staring at each other, perhaps challenging even then.

And then they battle to see who can make the other scream the loudest.

When it's over and they're lying together, covered in sweat, and lying loosely within each other's arms, it's Emma who breaks the silence by laughing.

"Emma?" Regina asks, sitting up and looking at her now-lover like she's gone mad. "Are you…what is it?"

"In a million years," the blonde says. "I never could have seen that coming."

And of course because Regina doesn't know any better than to take the words to heart – and the wrong way – she pulls back. "Oh."

"Regina, no, that's not what…six months ago when I was standing in your office and you were bitching at me about your Neighborhood Watch bullshit –"

"It wasn't bullshit," Regina grumbles. "It reduced crime by three percent."

"Three percent of zero is still zero," Emma snorts in response. "And my point stands: did you see this happening?"

"Well, we were tangled up on the ground," Regina sighs.

"And you did hit on me," Emma nods.

"I did not."

"You totally did."

"Whatever."

"Which basically means you know I'm right."

"It basically means that we're both naked and you're talking. If you're not too tired, I know better things that you could be doing with that mouth of yours, dear."

"I'm never too tired, but just so you know, I'm still right," Emma chirps.

Regina rolls her eyes. "Shut up," she says before rolling herself atop Emma. Her hands slide over the blonde's body, one going north and the other south. She seals her lips over Emma's pulse point, running her tongue across warm skin.

"Been meaning to ask you," Emma gasps out as Regina's incredibly talented fingers dance below her waist, skimming over her upper thighs before retreating to settle on her hip. "I always smell lavender on you…"

"Do you like it?" Regina asks as she lowers her mouth towards Emma's breasts.

"Very much. Yeah, very much."

"Then you can use it on yourself later when we take a shower," Regina tells her, grinning against Emma's left breast for just a moment before she leans in and captures a hardened nipple between her teeth.

"Shower. Oh good. Oh…oh Jesus…oh…" Emma mumbles, dropping her head back and letting her eyes fall shut. This reaction, this blissed out utterly pleasured response earns her a rather satisfied sounding throaty chuckle in response. She presses her fingers into the tender skin of Regina's upper arms, hard enough to leave bruises, but if the older woman minds, she sure doesn't show it.

When her orgasm hits a few moments later, and her body is twitching and shaking, and Regina's arms are around her to support her and keep her from falling, her mind is wonderfully blank of everything except for the fact that right now, she feels like nothing can hurt her. She feels damned close to invincible.

She feels like she's healing.

As she slides towards sleep a few minutes later, her face settled into the warmth of Regina's neck, and her arms wrapped around the former queen's waist, she thinks about change and family. She thinks about life and death.

And then she thinks about being saved.

Apparently, you can be saved by someone else.

Sometimes you have to save each other, and sometimes you have to do it together, but it's saving all the same.

She closes her eyes, breathes in her lover's scent and allows sleep to take her.


	5. 5 Love

**A/N: **Thanks so much for sticking with me throughout this brief journey. I truly hope this conclusion satisfies. I have one more quick project I want to wrap up and then I will be returning to Concordance in full force. I appreciate your patience in that regard. Again, thanks for the kind words. They have been appreciated.

Timeline: Right after chapter 4 so post season 2ish.

Warnings: Some language and some semi-graphic f/f sexual activity. Oh and random bitchiness.

* * *

"You take me in, no questions asked

You strip away the ugliness that surrounds me

Are you an angel?

Am I already that gone?

I only hope that I won't disappoint you when I'm down here on my knees"

**-Sweet Surrender, Sarah McLachlan**

* * *

She _panics_.

It's not surprising, really; much of her life has been about reacting – usually badly – to this or that, and now is certainly no different. Especially since right at this moment in time, she's coming to her waking senses wrapped up tight in the toned and muscular arms of the woman who had brought about her downfall. That Emma's hold is warm and strong and even comforting is something that only serves to increase the fear that is streaking through her.

She knows that she should be dignified – even thirty years removed from her crown, she is still a queen. She should move slowly and quietly so as not to wake up the slumbering sheriff but her heart is suddenly hammering away in her chest, and yeah, panic is absolutely the right word for what happening here.

Her breaths coming out in short hard gasps, Regina tears forward in the bed, practically leaping from the cool sheets. Her eyes are wide and her hair is wild, and somewhere in the back of her half-crazed mind, a voice that sounds suspiciously like her deceased (murdered, that same voice amends) mother is telling her just how undignified this overemotional reaction truly is. She doesn't care, though. All she cares about right now is getting the hell out of this bed.

Out of this bed, out of this room, out of this house…

If she can do that, she thinks with a hint of desperation, maybe she can get somewhere safe and quiet and then she can clear her head and think and…

"Come back to bed," she hears a mumbled voice say suddenly. It comes to her – muffled, groggy and half-formed - from deep within the warm heavy blankets of the bed. The blonde woman is still tucked beneath layers of silk and cotton, her face pressed into the thick pillow, her pale hair splayed out in every direction.

"No," Regina answers quickly, shaking her head. She takes a step away from the bed, almost tripping over her own feet in her frantic haste. "No. I need to…"

Maybe it's the raw emotion that she hears in Regina's voice or perhaps it's the less than confident tone, but whatever it is, it's enough to make Emma finally lift up her head from the pillow. "Regina?"

Were Regina in her right mind, the brunette would surely chuckle at the visual that greets her: that of the sheriff looking disheveled, and almost adorably sleepy, squinting as she tries to figure out just what the hell is happening. Instead, the dark haired woman just stares at her now-lover, eyes comically wide.

"What's wrong?" the blonde queries, shifting so that's leaning up on her elbow, her open palm creating a not quite comfortable pillow for her head.

"Nothing…nothing…I just…I need to go…" she trails off, stepping away from the bed, and taking a couple of steps towards the door of the bedroom.

"Regina, are you…are you actually having a panic attack right now?" Emma asks, and without her permission, a slight smile quirks its way across her pink lips. She knows that it's entirely the wrong expression to be displaying right now, and yet she can't help but find herself oddly amused to see this strong woman freaking out like this.

"No! Yes! Why the hell aren't you?" Regina demands, snapping back around to face Emma, her dark eyes flaring with frantic emotion as she steps back towards the bed. "You do realize that you just had sex with your mortal enemy, don't you?"

Emma's eyebrow lifts at this, and the smile grows. "I do realize that, yes, but for what it's worth, we haven't really been mortal enemies for awhile now."

"Fine. By all means, Miss Swan, let's argue semantics, shall we? You just fucked your _former_ mortal enemy," Regina growls out, taking another step towards the bed. It seems that her anger – or fear – is empowering her once again. Making her bold. "Better?"

"Yeah, that's better, but you know, I wouldn't exactly call what we did last night fucking," Emma answers lazily, and now she's just playing around with her volatile lover. It's a decidedly suicidal tactic to take with the brunette right at the moment, but she's having a hell of time understanding exactly why Regina's panicking.

Usually, this is her trick. Usually, she's the one looking for a window to crawl out of, her shirt half unbuttoned and her hair looking like it'd been styled by blender.

"Oh and what would you call it, dear? Making love?" Regina spits out, derision dripping over her words. "You're not nearly that naïve or idealistic. And I'm pretty sure the scratch marks on your mark would support my version of the events as opposed to your...whatever it is."

"No," Emma admits all the while ignoring the comment about the scratch marks (that they exist doesn't in her mind alter what had occurred into something empty and emotionless). "I'm not. And normally, right now I'm right where you are. Normally, I'm the one freaking out like there's no tomorrow, but you know what, Regina? I'm not, and I don't regret what happened last night."

These words, said with warm unwavering certainty, stop Regina cold in her tracks, any other cold angry follow-up swallowed back down deep. Her expression changes to one of confusion mingled with a bit of doubt and distrust.

"You…don't?"

"I don't. And I think the reason you're going all Evil Queen on me right now is because you don't actually regret it, either." Emma reaches up, then, grabs the brunette's hand, and yanks her back down on the bed. "Do you?"

"Emma…"

"My name's a good start," Emma grins before rolling Regina onto her back, and then dipping her head down to pepper kisses along exposed skin. The soft moan that slips from the older woman's slightly parted lips is enough to push her on.

"This is a mistake," Regina breathes just before Emma captures her lips in a kiss that just about makes her brain short out. As she had very well discovered during the rather explosive events of the previous evening, Emma is neither a delicate nor a gentle lover. Everything about her intense and in the moment, and when she kisses, she puts every bit of emotion she has within herself into the kiss.

It's all she knows how to do even if it exposes her completely.

"Maybe but it's a mistake we made twice last night. I see no reason why we shouldn't make it a few more times," Emma chuckles as her hand slides down to dance against the warm tight skin of Regina's toned abdomen. "And if I recall, you promised me that I'd get to test out your lavender soap."

"It's body wash," Regina moans, her hand reaching out to grab at the sheets with one hand, her knuckles whitening as she grips them tightly within her fingers.

"Whatever."

"Emma, wait…no…wait," Regina gasps out, turning her head slightly to the side. She reaches a hand up and lays it flat against Emma's bare chest, her fingers curling in slightly to scrape against the swell of a breast. "Why aren't you?"

"Why aren't I what?" Emma asks as she buries her face into Regina's neck. She swirls her tongue around the hollow there, enjoying the rumble of the older woman swallowing at the contact. She feels more than hears the soft groan that bubbles its way up and out of Regina's mouth. Quite involuntarily, Emma thinks.

"Freaking out," Regina says, finally managing to push Emma upwards and slightly away from her. "Your reputation with relationships is worse than mine."

"Pretty sure that's not true," Emma answers, and it's an echo of a previous conversation between them, but if Regina recognizes it as such, she doesn't show it. Instead, she looks even more frustrated as she rolls away.

"Emma, I'm serious. You've spent most of your life running away everyone and everything. Why aren't you doing that right now? Running away from me – from who I am and what we've done – it would actually make sense for once."

"You're right," Emma nods. "For pretty much the first time in my life, running away would be completely warranted because I mean, you are the Evil Queen."

"Indeed," Regina answers stiffly, sitting up in the bed. Her eyes have darkened, and grown hard and cold. It's almost like she can feel the cold brush of rejection.

"Hey, are you going to let me finish?" Emma prompts, her voice almost soft. She reaches out and catches Regina's hand, this time simply squeezing it.

"Fine," the brunette sighs. "Go ahead."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"I was never especially graceful," Regina counters with the smallest hint of a smile. "And that sounds like something you read in a fantasy book."

"Eh, saw it on TV," Emma confesses, offering up her own smile.

"Of course. Anyway, go on."

Emma dips her head in a show of gratitude, but being who she is, the sincerity of the slightly overdone gesture is somewhat clouded by the mirth dancing through her blue-green eyes. "You're the Evil Queen, Regina, and I'm the long-lost kid of Snow White and Prince Charming. I got impregnated by the world-hopping kleptomaniac son of Rumplestiltskin, and then ended up spending ten months in prison because Pinocchio betrayed me so that I would free a town that you created from scratch from a curse that you enacted because you were pissed."

"That's a rather droll and underwhelming summary of everything that's happened thus far," Regina drawls. "But all right. What's your point?"

"My point is, yes, running away from all of this, but this specifically would make sense for about a hundred different reasons, but it's not what I want."

Regina blinks. "What are you saying?"

"Honestly? I don't know. I just know that right now, I'm okay with this."

"And later today? When you're at dinner with your parents and they're telling you that spending so much time with me is a bad idea?"

"They've been telling me that for weeks," Emma shrugs. "And I'm still an adult fully capable of making my own decisions." She pulls Regina back over to her again. "And right now, I choose to be right here. With you. Doing this."

"You're sure?"

"You asked me that last night, too."

"When people find out –"

"We'll figure all of that out then," Emma assures her. "Look, Regina, I'm having one of my rare emotionally healthy moments. I'm choosing to take a chance on whatever it is that this is. Please shut up and let me enjoy it, okay? Please?"

It takes the former queen a long moment to allow theses almost inconceivable and unbelievable words to rumble through her mind. They don't make sense to her; none of this does. This is as much madness as anything else in her life has ever been, and yet for once, this insanity feels a bit like being grounded.

She inhales, exhales, closes her eyes and then leans in. She settles a hand lightly on each cheek, presses her lips to Emma's and kisses her.

* * *

It's three long later when Henry finally asks them – during an unscheduled but certainly exuberantly welcomed breakfast of Belgian waffles with whipped cream and fresh cut strawberries – what's going on with the two of them.

His eyes are wary, but his tone is more curious than judgmental. "Why are you here again?" he asks Emma, his head slightly cocked to the side.

"Sick of seeing me, kid?" she punts between massive bites.

"Never, but…did you spend the night? Again?" You've been doing that a lot."

The two women exchange a look. "Yes," Regina says softly. "She was helping me deal with some issues." There's a slight blush across her skin, but thankfully Henry's neither old enough nor experienced enough to recognize it for what it is: evidence of the erotic memory that is currently flashing through her mind.

"Like what?"

"Henry," Emma says suddenly, leaning in towards him. "Your mom and I, you know that we've become friends, right?"

He looks between them, and there's an unsettling kind of awareness burning in his eyes. "What kind of friends?" he asks, his voice slightly high and excited sounding. "Like Grandma and Ruby friends or Grandma and Grandpa friends?"

"Eww," Emma says instinctively, earning her a snort and then a scolding look from Regina. "Sorry," she follows up with. "Just…they're still my mom and dad."

"And you're my moms," Henry states, drawing their attention back to him and his questions. Quieter then, he adds, "And I'm not blind. Or five."

"What's that mean?" Regina asks softly. Her tone is even and tightly controlled, but Emma can still hear the slight tremor there; the former queen is terrified how Henry will react to finding out about them. They've talked about discussing their situation with him twenty times over, and each time Regina has rejected the idea, scared that Henry will condemn her and insist that they separate because he can't bear the idea of the Savior bedding down with the Evil Queen.

And the truth is that if he does – if he demands that they end this thing between them – Emma knows for damn certain that even though it will break the former queen's heart to do so, she will give into their son's wishes without hesitation. That she means something to the older woman is something that Emma doesn't doubt even a little bit, but even so, Henry and his desires will always come first.

"You care about each other," Henry says after a long moment that seems to stretch out for hours. Then he nods his head as if confirming a thought within his own head. "You care about each other a lot."

"We do," Emma hedges, still not willing to say too much just yet.

He looks up at them, his chin lifted. "Do you love each other?"

Emma doesn't miss the way Regina flinches at this. In all of their discussions – and though neither of them is especially talented with talking, they've had quite a few roundabout conversations about their situation – the word "love" has been carefully avoided. Neither is comfortable with it or nor the implications of it.

"We…care about each other," Emma echoes.

He stares at the both of them for another long moment, this one long enough that Emma has time to shift anxiously from foot to foot (it's not lost on her how still Regina is, her unshakable poise courtesy of her upbringing and her years as a queen). Finally, he says, "Okay." And then just like that, he returns to his waffles.

The women exchange another look, the kind that seems to say that more serious conversations are probably coming their way because if eleven-year-old Henry has noticed the shift in their relationship, then certainly others have as well.

"Can I have more syrup?" Henry asks suddenly.

One more exchanged look – this one involving a raised eyebrow from Regina and a smirk from Emma - and then they're both laughing.

Henry, for his part, just shakes his head and reaches over to grab the syrup.

* * *

Fall in a fishing town is a beautiful mixture of fog and crisp cool ocean air that smells like falling leaves and the world turning as the seasons change.

It's been almost six months since Cora's death and generally speaking, aside from a few close calls, the two women have done a damned good job of keeping their relationship to themselves. It's been far from easy, and they're fairly certain that Henry has figured out exactly what it is that they're doing during Emma's frequent stay-overs – as much as an eleven year old can – but so far, there's been little outside interference into their well…whatever the hell it is.

That is until Emma turns thirty years old.

Her parents throw her a birthday party at Granny's (Regina opts not to come because truthfully, she really still can't stand most of the people in this town and they're not too fond of her, either) and though Emma is typically awkward about the attention being uniquely focused on her, she enjoys the outpouring of affection, and even allows for the normality of it all to sweep through her.

And then she notices that Snow is drinking water and avoiding fish. Later in the evening, she's pretty sure she sees her mother settle a hand on her stomach.

She waits until the party is over and they're walking away from Granny's, all of them headed down the same street (she plans to head over to Regina's for a secondary party once they've parted ways, but that's for later – once Henry's asleep in the spare bedroom at David and Snow's).

She watches as Henry and David chatter with each other, babbling about knights and grand adventures that neither Emma nor Regina have any intention of allowing their excitable and eager son to experience for himself anytime soon (not until he's at least thirty, Regina has declared more than a time or two).

"Did you enjoy the party?" Snow asks.

"I did," Emma says, somewhat surprised that she actually means it. "Thank you."

"Not every day my little girl turns thirty."

"No, I guess not," comes the soft reply.

A moment passes, Snow frowns a bit, and then reaching out and clasping Emma's wrist lightly within her hand, she asks, "Emma? Honey? What's wrong?"

They've come to a full stop now, and thanks to David and Henry continuing to walk up ahead, they're pretty much alone. Emma swallows, then forces out in a voice that's humiliatingly raspy and emotional, "Are you pregnant?"

Snow makes a face. "Emma…"

"Right. I guess…uh…congratulations are in order, huh?"

"No, not today. Today is your day."

"My birthday," the blonde nods.

"Baby, I'm sorry."

Emma shakes her head, then, because this is absurd, and she's acting like a jealous silly small child. "No, no…don't be. I'm…happy for you guys. I am."

"But?"

"There's no but. I'm happy for you and David. You deserve this."

"Emma…"

"Really, I'm okay with this. I'm better than okay. I'm going to be a big sister."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Emma answers, and it's a lie that they both recognize, but for the moment, it feels good enough to allow it to drift through the evening air.

"Good," Snow says, slipping her hand into Emma's. "I was going to tell you tomorrow. We really wanted today to be special for you."

"And it is," Emma assures her. "It is. Special. Very."

Snow squeezes her hand and smiles.

Some lies are nice to hear.

* * *

She doesn't wait for Regina to speak before she's rushing through the door and grabbing the older woman by the forearms and slamming her against the wall next to the staircase. The gasp that comes from Regina's mouth at the impact is lost on the blonde, so focused on her own fury and confusion is she.

"Emma?" Regina queries, looking at her lover with wide eyes. She's not afraid, exactly; she still has her magic, and could easily call upon it if needed. That said, the expression on Emma's face is frightening because it best resembles that of a terrified and cornered animal. Which considering where she'd come from makes no sense. What in the hell could Snow and David have done to freak her out?

"I can't do this," Emma says, her flat hands pressed up against each of Regina's shoulders. She's holding the brunette to the wall, a knee pressed between her legs. It's an intimate though not at all erotic posture. More frantic than sexual.

"Do what?"

"This. Us. This town. Any of this. I can't do this."

Fear streaks through the older woman. This is not what she'd had in mind when she'd invited the blonde over to celebrate her birthday (and the two year anniversary of them having met). "Emma, what are you talking about?"

"I need to get out of here…" She turns her head, looking around like she's trying to find some kind of escape hatch. The door to the house is still standing wide open, but she looks right past it, and continues moving around, almost in a circle.

This time, it's Regina who makes contact. She reaches up and grab's Emma's hands, squeezing both of them as tightly as she can. "Emma! Look at me!"

The blonde snaps her head around. "What?"

"Talk to me. Please. What's going on? What's wrong?" She slides a hand over Emma's cheek, fingers lightly tapping against smooth pale skin.

"She's pregnant," Emma answers after a beat, her voice dull.

"Who?"

"My mother."

Regina falls away from Emma, and sags back against the wall, her head settling against it. "Oh," she says quietly, almost inaudibly.

Something cold and dark and small and childlike inside of Emma explodes. She laughs, the sound nearly hysterical. "Oh. That's what you have to say? Oh? What? You figure maybe you'll enact another curse and destroy another kid's life? Mine wasn't enough for you? Is that it, Your Majesty?"

Dark eyes that are suddenly shimmering sweep up to meet Emma's now bright green with emotion ones. The blonde sheriff sees pain and hurt reflecting back at her, the vividness of each of these raw emotions sharp and stark. "Actually, no, my dear," Regina snaps out, "I was thinking of you and how you might be feeling right about now. I was under the impression that that was what people who cared about each other did when one is upset, but clearly, assuming that such feelings exist between the two of us was my foolish mistake." Her tone is cold and angry, and for the first time in months, the Evil Queen is in attendance.

It's a bit like getting punched in the gut, and just like that, Emma deflates and falls to her knees, her head dropping to settle into her wide-open hands.

"I'm sorry," Emma says softly, eyes closed against her fingers. "I'm so sorry."

She's crying into her hands, and maybe it's this sound that breaks through the dark cloud of anger that is settling over Regina like poisonous gas. She's seen Emma upset before, but she's never seen her broken down and in tears.

Certainly not like this.

"Emma..."

"I'm sorry," the blonde repeats.

Regina drops to her knees and pulls her close, arms wrapping around the younger woman's shaking body. "Shh. It's okay, it's okay. I've got you."

"I didn't mean it," Emma gasps, sounding so much like a small child.

"I know," Regina tells her, and she's surprised to realize that she actually believes her own words. Just a few minutes earlier, she'd felt all of the familiar hurt and anger surging through her at the perceived rejection. That's all gone now, though, and the feeling that had been there initially – the need to take care of and protect her blonde lover – is back in full force. "It's okay," she says again.

"It's not."

"It is. I…understand."

Emma looks up at her, tears staining her face.

For a moment, she looks so terribly young and innocent and Regina feels aged enough that this whole thing between them is just a little bit creepy, but then Emma frowns and deep ragged lines form around her eyes that speak to all of her life experience and the fact that she truly is an old and kindred soul.

"Why?" Emma queries.

"Because I know what it's like to feel like you're drowning," Regina tells her.

"I'm happy for them," Emma insists.

"No, you're not, and that's okay, too." She runs her fingers through Emma's absurdly tangled blonde locks – wondering absently, not for the first time, just how it is that this woman manages to do this to her hair – and then presses a light kiss against the top of her head. "It's all right," she assures her, "To feel hurt. Just don't do what I do and let the pain destroy you. You're better than that."

"I'm sorry," Emma says again.

Regina simply smiles in response. "Do you think you can stand up?" she asks, offering a hand to help the blonde as she moves back to her feet.

"Yeah," Emma replies, taking the hand. She stands up and chuckles a bit nervously. " Some birthday celebration this turned out to be, huh?" She gestures to herself, motioning towards her ruined mascara and her bright red eyes.

Regina chuckles. "Well, the night is still young, and I'm not going anywhere."

"No, you're not are you?" Emma says, and it's like she's confirming something for herself. She leans in then, and presses her lips to Regina's, the kiss hard and passionate. "I need you," she whispers once they break apart.

Their eyes lock, and there's something deeper being expressed here, but for the moment, neither makes a move to say the words. Not those ones, anyway.

Instead, her voice trembling slightly as she speaks the words that she knows could very well end up in her destruction, Regina whispers, "I'm right here."

* * *

"You're sure she's here?" David asks as they quickly stride up the walkway to the white mansion. Snow is leading the way, moving fast, like she's panicked.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because this is where she comes when she's upset," Snow answers.

"Why?"

Snow turns to regard her husband for a moment, and then shakes her head. "I don't know, David, but I do know that she's freaked out about the baby. I saw it earlier, and I shouldn't have let her leave with talking it out but I did. I need to…we need to make sure she's okay. That's what we need to do."

He frowns a bit. Snow's been in a fit almost since she got home absent Emma who had expressed the need to get some air. Their daughter had requested that they keep Henry for the evening, and for some reason, that'd set off an alarm in Snow's head. Strange, he thinks, because Henry staying over is hardly a rarity.

He knows better, though, to doubt his wife's instincts or to try and stand in her way when she's like this. Which is why they're racing towards the front door to Regina's mansion. A door he notices which is oddly hanging wide open.

"Snow," he says softly because there's something telling him that walking through that door right now might change everything. He reaches for her arm.

"We need to see her," Snow insists again. "I need to. She needs to understand how much we love her and that she's not being replaced."

"Okay," he answers because he's not sure what else to say at this moment in time. He's a man of action and not emotions and right now, Snow is all emotion.

A moment later, though, his own instincts cut in when he hears a loud scream come from the upstairs window of the house. He exchanges a panicked look with Snow and then races into the house, past the open door and up the stairs.

* * *

Her teeth are grit about as hard as she can get them without breaking them, and her head is thrown back. Her fingers are wrapped around the headboard, but it's hardly helping her keep from twitching like she's having a seizure. Her throat is already raw from screaming, but Emma doesn't seem to notice. Or care.

No, that's not quite right; Emma clearly cares about what she's doing because every now and again, she lifts her head up from between the former mayor's legs and grins like a mischievous fool who's just lucked their way into the lottery.

"Emma," she gasps out. She hears a throaty chuckle in response, and then the blonde is rising up through the sheets to press her warm mouth against a breast. Deft fingers reach out to tweak and then palm the opposite one.

"Oh my God," she hears, and it takes her a long moment to realize that the voice belongs to a man and not Emma. She blinks and looks up.

"Dear," she says after a moment as recognition of just whom it is standing in the bedroom comes over her. She quirks an eyebrow at her guests, refusing to feel embarrassed within her own bedroom no matter the nature of the company.

"Tell me that's not who I think it is," Emma whispers in response, eyes wide. She's no longer moving, her body instead holding painfully still above Regina's.

"Emma," Snow whispers. "No." And then there's the sound of two sets of footsteps quickly fleeing the room, one clearly chasing after the other.

"Well," Regina comments after a moment. "At least they didn't see you going down on me." She punctuates the sentence with a lazy unapologetic smile.

"Not helpful," Emma growls in response.

"Probably not," Regina agrees with a slight shrug. "You should go check on them. I doubt they've left the house. That would be too easy for all of us."

"Yeah. Time to face the music," Emma sighs.

Regina reaches up and touches her face, cupping her cheek slightly. "Indeed."

* * *

Emma makes her way down to the kitchen first, having pulled on the clothes that she'd been wearing when she'd arrived at the house a few hours earlier. Her parents are standing by the long counter, neither saying a word, both just staring straight ahead like they're stuck in a state of shock.

"Hey," she says as she enters, her steps slow and tentative.

Snow snaps around, eyes blazing. She moves towards Emma, her right hand lifted, and her pointer finger extended upwards. "No," she says commandingly.

"I know this is difficult…"

"No," Snow says again. "This is not happening. You're not…you're not."

"I am."

"No!"

"You can keep saying that, but it doesn't change this," Emma tells her.

"She's evil."

"It's not that easy," Emma tells her. "And she's not who she was. Not anymore."

"I don't understand," Snow whispers. "How? Why? When?"

"That's a lot of questions, and it's a long story."

"We have time," David says quietly. He reaches for Snow's hand and squeezes it, trying to offer his wife some comfort and support.

"After Cora's death, we helped each other through it. One thing led to another."

"That's a pretty short story," Snow comments dryly.

"I guess it is."

"Is this about the new baby?"

"No. Look, I admit, that hit me like…well, it surprised the hell out of me, honestly, but this is about me. And her. And…I don't want to disappoint you. That's the very last thing I want to ever do, but I'm not a child and I…"

"Do you love her?" Snow interrupts, tears streaking down her cheek.

There's a long pause, and then quietly, "Yeah, I think I do."

"Think?" David presses. "Either you do or you don't."

Emma nods her head. "I do."

"Oh my God," Snow whispers before saying again, "This is not happening."

She spins, then, as if feeling another presence. Sure enough, Regina has joined the group and is now standing at the entrance to the room, dressed in slacks and a dress shirt. "It wasn't enough that you stole her for twenty-eight years."

Emma starts to respond, starts to step in, but Regina holds up a hand. Instead, she turns her attention to Snow, and speaks directly to her. "I'm not stealing her away now. I have no desire to take her away from that which she loves."

"Well that's new," Snow snaps back.

"It is," Regina agrees with a slight sad smile. "Believe it or not, I am not trying to hurt you, Snow. Not anymore anyway."

"Because of Emma?" David prompts, eyebrow lifted.

"Because I am tired of fighting and I am tired of being alone and unhappy. Hurting the two of you never made any of that better. _She_ makes it better."

"Do you love her?" Snow demands, echoing her previous question to Emma.

Regina doesn't hesitate, doesn't hedge her words. "Yes. And no matter what you think of me, Snow – most of it accurate – you know that I am capable of love."

Snow closes her eyes, not bothering to deny the truth of Regina's words. After a moment, she opens them and turns to David. "I can't…not right now."

"Okay," he says, sliding an arm around her waist. "We can deal with this later." He looks to Emma. "Are you coming home tonight?"

"Not tonight," she says softly. "I think we all need to take a deep breath, and then maybe we can deal with this in the morning with clear heads."

He nods his head in agreement. "Will you meet us for breakfast?"

"Yeah, of course I will."

"Just you," he presses, seeming almost apologetic. "I don't think…"

"It's going to take time," Emma acknowledges. "It's okay."

He smiles at her, and for a moment, she's glad for the strange separation that has always existed between them. He's her father, and he loves her, but he's always acknowledged her for the adult that she is as opposed to the child Snow has somewhat frozen her as. She knows he's no more comfortable with this situation than her mother is, but the distance allows him some perspective.

"Nine good?"

"Nine is perfect. I'll see you then."

He smiles once more, looks at Regina warily, and then starts to move Snow from the kitchen. He's two steps away when Snow snaps back around, escapes his arms and charges towards Regina, stopping just about a full inch from her face.

"If you hurt her –"

"She has more of a chance of hurting me than I do of her," Regina tells her.

The two women stare at each other for a long moment, their shared history jumping between them like a firecracker twisting its way along the ground.

"I won't forgive you," Snow finishes, her voice just barely audible.

"I won't forgive myself," comes the just as quiet response.

Snow turns away, then, casts one last look at Emma, and then leaves the kitchen with David. A few moments later, they hear the front door close behind them.

"Well that went better than I expected it to," Emma chuckles.

"Indeed. I haven't been beheaded," Regina drawls.

"Not funny."

Regina shrugs her shoulders. "Perhaps not. I could use a drink. You?"

"Make it double."

The brunette chuckles. She leads her way towards the study, followed closely by Emma and her shuffling nervous walk. She fills up two tumblers with scotch and offers one to the blonde. "Are you all right?" she asks after a moment.

"Did you mean it?" She doesn't have to clarify what she means by this; they both know which words are playing within both of their minds.

"Did you?"

"Yeah."

"Loving me isn't easy," Regina cautions, her fingers running against the light cloth of her pants and then curling into a ball against one of the legs.

"I know, but it is my choice. I haven't gotten to make a lot of those in my life."

"Nor I." She takes a sip. "It's going to be difficult for your mother."

"Do you care?" Emma asks, her head cocked to the side.

"I care because you do. I don't want you hurt."

"We'll figure it out. She wants me happy."

"And I make you happy?"

"When you're not making me crazy."

"Well, I can't promise I won't do that. I am still me and _she_ is still me."

"I know, and for what it's worth, I can't promise I won't drive you just as crazy. I may not have the Evil Queen as my secret identity, but well, you know."

"I do." Regina laughs, then. "So there it is," she says. "This is…real."

"Yeah. You going to freak out and try to run again?"

The brunette chuckles at this. "I'm not the one who showed up this evening in mid panic attack. Or have you already forgotten that?"

"Must have forgotten that behind all the…you know." She puts down the glass and steps closer to Regina, moving into her space. "We _were_ interrupted."

"Quite rudely if I recall," Regina replies, tilting her head back to give Emma access to her neck. Access which the blonde quickly takes full advantage of.

"I'd like to finish my birthday now," Emma whispers against the soft flesh of the former mayor's neck just before she lifts her head and claims Regina's lips

"Yes, I think you should," Regina manages in an expulsion of air and sound once Emma has returned to her neck. "Happy birthday, dear."

"Mm. Thank you."

And with that, she pushes Regina onto the floor of the study, sealing her mouth over Regina's and swallowing up the moan the bubbles up from her lips.

* * *

It's Sunday and Regina comes here – to a quiet little spot that overlooks the ocean - every week, and has for the last six months. She brings flowers – stunningly beautiful white ones – and lays them against the tightly packed dirt.

She kneels down next to the grave (it hadn't been right to bury her next to her father – the love there had never been mutual) and presses a hand against the tombstone. It simply says CORA MILLS. The stone is protected from vandalism by light magic, but it doesn't prevent Regina from tracing the letters. She closes her eyes and thinks of the strangeness of life and the way that things work out.

She thinks about holding Cora's heart in her hands, and remembers pressing it back into the empty cavity of her mother's chest. She recalls hearing the older woman gasp and then say her name as she'd fallen forward. She remembers seeing Emma's stricken eyes, the horror of realizing she'd just killed someone.

She thinks about a tentative first kiss in a study and then all that had come after that. She places her forehead against the tombstone and whispers a quiet thank you for a gift that Cora had never realized that she'd been providing.

After a moment, she stands up and steps backwards, into Emma's arms.

"You okay?" the sheriff asks, pulling the former mayor against her chest and resting her chin atop her shoulder. Her hands circle around the front of Regina, fingers lightly interlacing across the older woman's toned abdomen.

"I am." She reaches down and slides her hand into Emma's. And if she happens to squeeze a little bit hard and perhaps hold on little bit tighter than is probably completely necessary, it's something that Emma notices but doesn't mention.

They hold like this for a few moments longer, both of their eyes resting on the almost glowing letters carved into the tombstone, and then Regina turns in Emma's arms, kisses her lightly on the lips and says, "We can go now."

Emma leans forward, rests her forehead against Regina's for the briefest of moments, smiles and nods her head. "I'm hungry," she says, then.

The older woman laughs and breaks away from the embrace. "When aren't you, dear? Between you and Henry, it's amazing that you haven't bankrupted me."

Emma shrugs her shoulders. "You could always magic up some food."

"Yes, if you'd like it to taste like sawdust, certainly I could," Regina retorts as they make their way to the car.

"Fine. I'll settle for Granny's."

"So sawdust anyway."

"You're pretentious, you know that, right?"

"Says the woman who has Snickers bars hidden in every drawer of her desk at work as well as the glove box in her car."

"That's a granola bar in there," Emma shoots back.

"Only because a Snickers bar would melt," comes the quick reply.

"Uh huh. For the record, Snickers bars don't make me pretentious. They make me easy…going." She frowns at her choice of words.

"Exactly," Regina nods as they reach the car. She smiles wickedly, as if she knows she's won, and is enjoying the feeling of victory once again.

"Whatever," Emma mutters, moving towards the passenger side. She's just about a half a foot away when Regina catches her hand and draws her back. "What?" the blonde asks, her brow furrowing in worry and confusion.

Her only reply is Regina smiling – a full and for just a moment unencumbered one – and then lifting one of Emma's hands to her lips and kissing it.

Emma exhales and returns the smile because some things need not be said.

This is one of those things.

**-Fin**


End file.
